


At The Pit

by KaibaSlaveGirl34



Series: The Crow; Brandon Lee [7]
Category: The Crow (1994)
Genre: 90's Music, Angst and Humor, Bars and Pubs, Child Neglect, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Inspired by Music, Memories, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Movie: The Crow (1994), Reflection, Soft Drinks, Wordcount: 100-2.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 20:11:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaibaSlaveGirl34/pseuds/KaibaSlaveGirl34
Summary: Set during when Sarah goes to the bar known as The Pit..





	1. Inside The Pit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harry2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harry2/gifts), [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/gifts).



> Disclaimer: Genius James O’Barr owns The Crow, and the geniuses at Miramax Pictures own the 1994 film The Crow. I own the fanfics that I cook up from time to time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah goes to the bar known as The Pit, and finds her mother Darla there..

**At The Pit**

“Hey, kid! Get the hell outta the road!”

Sarah ignored the angry cabdriver as she dodged skillfully through the sparse traffic. _So? Run me down! See if I care,_ she thought angrily as she approached The Pit, warily scanning the sidewalk and nearby alleyways.

The last time she’d come here, she’d taken a short cut and run into Skank, who’d also been in the alley, but for quite a different reason; it was lucky for her that T-Bird had been in a hurry that night. Well, at least there was no sign of them out here now, but her skin crawled at the thought of going into the bar after Darla. At least she had an ally of sorts in the bartender.

With a determined air, she went down the steps to the sleazy bar’s sunken entrance, pushed it open and went in. The smoky interior was hardly brighter than outside, but there was enough light for her to see Darla sitting spraddle-legged on the lap of her current — and to Sarah’s mind, worst — “boyfriend,” Funboy.

Sarah had despised all of Darla’s “boyfriends” (as she called them), but she hated Funboy with a passion... and simultaneously feared him. Mostly, he treated her with contempt, but every now and then, she’d catch him looking at her with a kind of scary speculation, and she didn’t want to know whatever it was he was planning for her, although she had a pretty good idea. Like mother, like daughter — isn’t that what people said? And eleven wasn’t too young to start... heck, she knew kids her age who’d been at it for years.

But not her — not Sarah! She’d been Shelly and Eric’s friend, and she’d never disappoint them by going into sex and drugs like Darla. _I’d fight them every chance I got, like right now,_ she thought, heading over to the table where Darla and Funboy were practically doing it in front of everybody.

With that, she sat at the table, and cleared her throat pointedly to get their attention.

Almost groggily, the slatternly young woman looked over and saw Sarah staring accusingly at her, and had the grace to feel a moment of shame.

“Told ya to stay outta here,” she muttered defensively, letting her eyes slide away from her daughter, as if she couldn’t bear to look at her... or be looked **at**.

“So, I guess you’re not gonna be home ‘til a lot later, huh, Darla?” Sarah challenged her scornfully, hiding the hurt that gnawed at her with the skill that only comes after long experience.

“She’s busy!” Funboy sneered, looking at her up and down in the way that always made her feel wormy inside. “Go play with your dolls or something, okay?” he suggested mockingly, giving her that stupid open-mouthed waiting look that most grown-ups outgrew when they left high school. It infuriated her.

“I don’t have any dolls,” she snapped back at him, forgetting in her anger that this was a dangerous man to push. But Darla must have sensed what was building between them, because she reached for the little pile of bills on the table and handed a few to Sarah.

“Get some food, huh,” she said hopefully, trying to get rid of her before there was trouble. But Sarah was too mad by this time, and with all she’d been through so far tonight, she was getting reckless.

“Somebody already bought me dinner...” she said sullenly, taking the money, but rejecting Darla’s offer. Then she looked at Funboy, giving him the look of a challenger (which he’d probably seen before more than once). “...the police!” she spat at him, letting him know that she still had some protectors left in this world.

But after a few seconds, his impatient glare unnerved her, so she snatched up the money and retreated, hating him, and herself for giving in so easily.

 _Well, that certainly got my attention — and pussycat’s too,_ Funboy thought; his nickname for Darla was ‘pussycat’ — and for good reason. With that, he saw what he viewed to be an opportunity to show off what he called his sarcastic side, and took that as his cue to go for it.

“‘Somebody already bought me dinner... the police,’” he mocked cruelly as Sarah walked stiff-backed away from them, her mother’s foolish giggle at his jibe stabbing her like a knife.

 _I hate them,_ Sarah thought, fighting back her tears. _Shelly… Eric… why did you have to die?_

But there was no answer — there would never be an answer to that question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice feedback is very much appreciated, of course.. :)


	2. Role Models

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah thinks about Eric and Shelly — whom she remembers as her role models..

**Role Models**

Les, the bartender, had seen the whole business with Darla and Funboy, of course, but he was busy with another customer down the counter, so Sarah had a few minutes to pull herself together before he came over to her. He was a gruff and ugly man, but there was more real kindness in his face than in Darla had in her entire body, and Sarah knew that. Plus, she was glad to count him as one of her friends; however, considering where he worked, she didn’t get to see him very often.

“Root beer,” she told him morosely, not wanting to brave the rainy night just yet. She pushed one of Darla’s bills towards him.

“It’s on the house, kiddo. You know that,” he said with his usual gruff kindness, pushing her money back at her as he set her drink down. “One root beer.” Then his eye was attracted by something behind her, and she swiveled in her seat to see what it was. It was Darla and Funboy — they’d left the little table and were starting up the stairs to Funboy’s room, Darla a little ahead, looking back flirtatiously at the man who was already grinning lewdly back at her.

Sarah turned back to face Les, hunching her shoulders in a hot, shamed misery at what they were doing… and were going to do.

“I can’t do anything,” Les said in pained embarrassment and sympathy. “Your mom? Technically, she’s… off, right now,” he explained, as if that would do any good.

“Yeah… way off,” Sarah said bitterly while mentally adding to herself, _I wish she was… on another planet!_ Slowly she sipped her root beer, its sweetness growing flat as depression washed over her. Funboy was an idiot, a jerk, a rat-bastard… and that was pretty much all she could think of to describe him — at least for the moment.

“Look, kiddo, you watch your step around Funboy — you push that guy too far and you could wind up in big trouble,” Les went on, looking at her with genuine concern, but he wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed heavily, afraid that she had no real way of avoiding her mother’s boyfriend… or whatever plans he might have for her future.

Role models. Shelly had told her to look for good people to study as role models, but Shelly had been the only one she’d known… until Eric came into their lives. Then Sarah began studying him for all she was worth.

Shelly had laughed and said she was like Jane Goodall studying chimpanzees in Africa, and Eric got a big kick out of that, bouncing all around the loft, pretending to be a chimp. They’d all laughed until they cried and their sides hurt. Ever after that, whenever Eric wanted to tease her (although in a nice way, as he never liked hurting her feelings), he’d call her “Sarah Jane” and go “Ook, ook,” crouching and swinging his arms like a monkey. It never failed to crack them both up. _Geez, he’d been such a great guy!_

But if Eric was what she called the epitome of a **positive** role model, then she would look at Funboy and see him as the epitome of a **negative** one. Deep down, she knew she’d better study him as well, so she’d never, never have anything to do with any creep the least little bit like him, and so she’d never make the same mistakes her mother did.

Finally, she couldn’t stand even being in the same building as Funboy and her mother, knowing what they were doing upstairs — not after remembering those happy times with Shelly and Eric. Well, at least they were doing it here and not back at the apartment. Rain or no rain, she went back out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice feedback is very much appreciated, of course.. :)


End file.
